Winchester Fire Never Dies
by DaughterOfWarCHB
Summary: Dean Winchester always had a problem with one-night-stands. And, on occasion, so had the rest of Team Free Will. That little problem was going to come back and bite them, in the form of Scarlet Lasset, Victoria Carliel, Cassidy Smith, and Lola Archeens. Oh, and maybe it was worth mentioning that Scarlet has one Hell of a grudge...
1. We Might Have A Case

**Hello hello hello there! Quick note: this isn't set in or after any particular season of Supernatural, so I guess you could say it was just after the series? I dunno, but I suppose it's set in a universe set about 17 years after season two (yes, that's a lot of years, but it's also been a few years since season two, and not much changed in those seventeen years)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything about the actual Supernatural show or characters, just the plotlines, and the aforementioned characters: Scarlet, Andy, Victoria, James, Cassie and Lola + any other characters that are not in the show. Obviously. Anyways, enjoy!  
**

* * *

 _"Are you sure she died of a heart attack?" James asked, curiously watching the shaking twelve-year-old brunette. Interestingly enough, her first thought had been to find him when she found her mother dead, not the police or the fire department. It'd been about an hour since she'd arrived, but the most he'd managed to get out of her was that she wanted a blanket, despite the 80 degree temperature._

 _Scarlet nodded slowly. She almost seemed unsure, like she was debating on if what she saw was just a freak-of-nature sort-of thing. And that was because she was, and James knew it. She was wondering whether or not the stranger that her mother had let in had anything to do with it – whether or not the outstretched arm that had happened right before her mother had started convulsing was relevant or not. It was. But James didn't want to freak her out by knowing the story before she even told him her mother had had someone over._

 _"Why did you come here, anyway? Shouldn't you have called the police?" No she shouldn't've. The police would just turn her over to CPS, seeing as there was no logical explanation other than natural causes on a heart attack – at least, none that could be linked to the supernatural. James knew that, and he knew that Scarlet's subconscious had only told her to come to him first because his house gave off the sort of feeling that it wasn't natural. Like an abandoned gas station in the desert._

 _Scarlet's shoulder's shook more intensely, her hair covering her face as she looked to the ground. Despite having gone through this situation about a hundred times it felt, James still didn't quite know hoe he was supposed to comfort people. Everyone was different. And usually people felt at least amused that a thirteen-year-old was trying to comfort them, but Scarlet was twelve and she was completely different from everyone else James had met._

 _"Okay...How about this: you don't have to tell me what happened, and I won't call the police or anything, if, and only if, you decide you can come with me to where me and my friend's stay. But we'll have to go back to your house to get some clothes for you, alright?"_

 _Scarlet's gaze snapped up at James's offer. Obviously she thought that this stupid house was where James always lived, with his 'uncle', but usually stayed with friends and that was why most of his stuff wasn't there. Of course she thought that. That's what James had told her - and she trusted him, and he didn't plan to break that by pressuring her (and sounding like a kidnapper), so he stood quietly in front of her as she assessed her options._

 _And then the faint "okay" slipped out of her lips, making James frown to grow into a smile. Great. That would make protecting her a Hell of a lot easier, rather than if she had decided that social services were going to do her a favor._

 _"C'mon, then - but I'll warn you. Some people may say it does, but it never gets better. The pain only gets farther and farther away from your mind, okay?"_

* * *

That had been what had started the long, long road, anyways. A lip-shaking "okay" and a warning. It'd been three years since that had happened, and Scarlet had to say that the memory was still fresh on her mind. It always was when she had a bit of spare time on her hands. Besides, what else did she have to think about? The '79 Camaro that she had bought (see: stolen), didn't need any work on it, and everyone else in the motel room James had gotten them was perfectly okay and not-bored.

So Scarlet figured she could sit back for a moment and assess that stupid, stupid decision she'd made years ago, while everyone else decided what their next case would be and how they were travelling there. Yeah, she thought her decision to go with James back then was stupid. Why wouldn't she? It had only given her more and more pain than CPS ever could've given her. But it had given her the element she'd always thought she lacked in her life - adventure. The reflexes she had since she was a kid that her mother had always said her father had taught her before he left for good had come in handy as well. Yet it wasn't enough to make her want to be where she was now.

"-rlet? Scarlet? Are you even listening to me?" Someone snapped, literally and figuratively, in Scarlet's face ,and she was just about ready to skin them alive when she realized that it was just Victoria. Victoria as in 6' ft. Victoria of whom knew the best ways to 1) punch, and 2) embarrass Scarlet. It was hard not to hiss at her, but Scarlet settled for scowling and crossing her arms. But she didn't respond. Since she hadn't even realized that Victoria was talking to everyone.

"That's what I thought." Victoria sounded so matter-of-fat. Scarlet would've found it punchable had she not had to live with Victoria - slowly it had become more endearing than I-will-punch-you-into-a-brick-wall-and-not-regret-it annoying. "Anyways, I think we might have a case in Ohio. An entire group of campers went missing about two days ago. Park rangers have only been able to find one - well, parts of one. And they were twenty-eight feet up a tree."

"...That definitely sounds like our type of case," James commented off offhandedly, which broke the silence that had lasted a whole minute after Victoria had finished explaining her findings. Man, the magic that girl could do with a laptop was something that Scarlet had never been able to explain. And yet, even as James was saying it, he was grabbing his backpack, stuffing clothes and weapons back to where they belonged. That boy always did want to leave as soon as possible.

"A'ight, so who am I taking with me?" Scarlet asked as she herself started shoving clothes back into her duffel bag. With six of them - James, Victoria, Scarlet herself, Andy (who was off in La La Land again), Cassie (who was staying oddly silent), and Lola (who was busy sucking on a lollipop) -, and two vehicles - Scarlet's Camaro and James's old pick-up truck, usually they split everyone up half-and-half. No one usually commented on the fact that Scarlet was even legally old enough to drive and James had never gotten his license. It was just one of those things they really liked ignoring.

James looked to Cassie, seeing as the trench-coat-wearing girl had her pick of who she was going with this time. Yeah, usually being in Scarlet's Camaro in the back seat felt better than being crammed in between James and somebody else in the truck. It took a minute for her to respond, as always. "Uh...I'll go with Lola and Scarlet. Andy and Victoria can go with you, James. Please don't drive either of them off a cliff."

"Okay, fine - I'll try," James laughed, throwing one of Andy's shirts at him to get his attention, and nodding at Andy's ridiculously empty backpack to tell him it was time to leave. Andy only gave a large sigh and an indignant huff before getting up and complying. "But sometimes it's just so _tempting_!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Scarlet smirked, smugness written all over her expression as she slung her duffel over her shoulder and crossed her arms, waiting for everyone else to hurry the Hell up. She was always the one who kept the least amount of clothing out of her bag. It certainly came in handy when they had to leave in a hurry - that was why Andy had lost about half of his clothes once. Good memories, those were. "Aren't I lucky to get the unannoying ones?"

A glare was shot at her by the thee people not in question. Andy was still huffing, and the black bangs that fell into his face when he glared made him look like a thirteen-year-old emo coming out of the closet. "Oh shut up, Scarlet. I wouldn't say that Cassie and Victoria have it completely off the hook either - they have to deal with you, right?" 

"Just shut up and pack your shit."

* * *

 _Scarlet just wished she would've, at the time, knew how much more complicated her life would get after this._


	2. I Need Sleep - Not Your Drama

Dean Winchester sighed as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It took him almost sixteen hours to drive to Ohio, and he hadn't slept for any of them. Either a coffee or a beer was severely in order, and Sam's passed out form in the passenger form didn't help his mood at all. Yeah, sure, he knew that Sam was only asleep because Dean wouldn't ever in his right mind let him drive Baby, but that didn't mean he had to be a rational person about it. And Cas was off who knows where, since he was an angel and didn't need sleep, apparently.

Or maybe that was his sleep-deprived self talking. Yet both he and Sam had agreed - this case (since they didn't have any other end-world situations going on) was a priority, to see if they could find the other four campers before they met the same fate as the poor guy who ended up as a pinata for woodpeckers. Oh, and in at least six pieces. He ended up as that too. Sam said that this might be the work of a black dog or a skin walker, but Dean was leaning more toward the Wendigo side of things. It was certainly gruesome enough to be. And the article they read did say that body parts were missing a large amount of flesh, but the authorities had probably just summed that up to the fact that the body was in a tree and in pieces.

Dean leaned his arm on the steering wheel for a minute or two after parking, before turning to his side and shaking Sam violently on the shoulder. He woke up and looked around like he'd been kidnapped - Dean smiled a bit at Sam's reaction. "Rise and shine, Sammy. We've got a monster to hunt."

"It is two am, the only thing we'll be hunting is for a vacancy at this motel. I doubt it'll take long." Ah, there was Sammy's classic bitch face, which was still getting rid of the remnants of sleep. Anyone's bitch face seemed about ten times more threatening whenever you just wake them up. Dean would know - Cas was very confused once, when he woke Dean up and he was 'ready to kill a man'.

Nevertheless, Dean just rolled his eyes at his brother's behavior and stepped out of the Impala, wincing as the door slammed shut behind him. He really needed to work on not doing that; it would hurt the doors. Then again, it also raises the question why his brain was even going through the scenario of what slamming doors was doing to the car. Dean would go out on a limb and say that he just really, really needed sleep. Judging by the look Sam was giving him over the hood of the car, he thought so too.

* * *

"...How about I stay up and do a bit more research. You should sleep," Sam said after a while of silence, wiping away the fake smile he'd plastered on his lips when they'd paid for the room in the shabby motel. Yet another greasy old man who had more attitude and sweat than hair or money. Ah, the joys of being hunters. There were about no perks and about a thousand reasons to stick to your normal, every day, non-hunting life. How fun.

Dean nodded quickly. Catching some z's sounded one Hell of a lot more easier than trying to figure out where the other four missing campers were, if they had any chance of surviving, whatever killed them, and how to kill _that_. It sounded exhausting just thinking about it. Why the Hell would Sam want to do that instead of sleep? Except, of course, the fact that Sam doing research meant Dean sleeping and that was the offer that was given. Dean was really getting into the habit of overthinking things.

Unfortunately enough for Dean, he didn't even get two hours of sleep before he was woken up to the sound of slamming doors. Immediately he sat bolt-right up, afraid that someone was hurting and robbing his Baby, but a quick look through dirty windows confirmed that that was not in fact the case.

Instead, there were two new cars in the parking lot - a nice looking Camaro right next to Baby, and an old pick-up parked a few spaces away from the Camaro. It looked like the slamming noise had come from the driver of the Camaro. Damn, the girl looked like she was sixteen at best - on the shorter side, with no make-up, a Star Wars jacket, cargo pants and combat boots. Looked like the casual run-of-the-mill troublemaker. But it was the glint of silver from her belt loop that caught Dean's attention, and the infuriated look on her face as she argued with the girl who had stepped out of the passenger seat - this one was tall, extremely so, but still had girlish looks, like she hadn't quite hit puberty. She was wearing an ill-fitting leather jacket and leggings, with Converse and both a backpack and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

By the looks of it, the two were in the middle of an intense argument, and the car was the one suffering for it. Dean couldn't make out the words, and they were talking to quickly for Dean to even attempt lip-reading, but he got some of it - the tall one threw the duffel bag to the ground at the other girl's feet, and angrily stalked into the lobby of the motel. The shorter one on the other hand, gave an indignant huff and crossed her arms, marching over to the pick up truck and muttering a few things, before marching back over to the Camaro. The engine revved up, and the tires squealed as she left.

Turning around, Dean saw that Sam wasn't even remotely interested in the exchange. At his inquisitive look, Sam just shook his head and looked up from his laptop, which still had wifi somehow without the motel clerk having given the password. "They've been arguing for the past hour. I don't really know why, and I don't really care why..."

"But?"

"But I'm nosy anyways, and I'm pretty sure that the shorter one - you know, the one in a Star Wars jacket? - was pissed off because the tall one had brought up something to do with her dad, and then had countered by saying something about the taller one's mommy issues or whatever, and, yeah, it escalated from there. How'd it end, anyway?"

Dean shrugged. It wasn't like he was awake enough to have even registered the sound of the arguing even if it was a french horn blasting in his ear. He shivered at that thought - his eardrums would be ringing for days after that. "As far as I could see, the taller one was holding a backpack and a duffel,and then threw the duffel down and came in here. The shorter one just drove off - clearly not thinking of what it would do to that poor car's tires."

The roll of Sam's eyes could be seen by outer space. But before he could say anything, a knock at the door stopped him cold. Nobody should know they were here. Nobody should have any reason to be knocking on someone else's door at four am.

With a shared look of equal parts confusion and suspicion, both Sam and Dean cautiously walked to the door - Dean with a gun and holy water, Sam with a silver knife and their demon knife. Whoever was at the door knocked again, as if impatient. Sam swung open the door, and quickly hid the knives behind his back (and poorly so) when he saw it was the tall girl from outside, except with an expression that said she was done with whatever they had to say before they said it.

"Look, you would think that a motel like this would have a bunch of vacancy's - but no. Literally every single room except this one is rented out to prostitute's and/or druggies, so, I don't really care whether or not I have to murder you guys or not - I'm just that tired -, but I'm staying here tonight."


End file.
